


Him and I.

by prisonerof221B



Category: Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Thor Odinson - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Midgard, Modern AU, Multi, Trigger Warning for depression, trigger warning for self harm, trigger warning for suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:16:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prisonerof221B/pseuds/prisonerof221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They claimed I was always detached from Thor and never spoke to him. They'd never told a bigger lie."</p><p>Thor disappears on a normal Tuesday. Loki last sees him over a science test. By the third day Thor is missing, Loki doesn't speak. When Thor finds his way home, bruised and bloody, Loki isn't sure how to cope with his return. He shouldn't be angry, but he can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rage

I had heard him falling first. I paused at the sound, holding onto the rug I was shaking out. I’d thought I’d misheard something. It was just my paranoia back to terrorize me. I lifted my eyes to the woods that filled our yard, and sure enough, he was rolling down the hill. 

What was funny about the situation was that after not seeing him for a month, the first thought I had was about how he landed. How ungraceful of him. I didn’t notice the blood, or the awkward way he held his arm. Just that he hit a tree and stopped at the bottom of the slope. 

Once the thought had faded I dropped the rug and was running faster than I ever had. Somebody was screaming his name. I realized only later that it was me. I was screaming for him and hardly noticing the way my unused throat ached around the name. I heard the patio door open loudly, and the light footsteps told me it was my mother. Our mother, soon joined by the heavy steps of our father.

I was afraid to touch Thor. I was afraid to further hurt him. A bloody cut on his temple, a gash in his leg that split his filthy jeans, and what looked to be a broken arm. He was thinner than I’d ever seen him, and his hair was knotted, almost brown as though he’d been rolling in the dirt.

My fingers skimmed his chest, tears clouding my eyes. I found myself still screaming. I was screaming at my father. Don’t just stand there! Call somebody. Our parents were so full of shock that they couldn’t move, but in seconds my mother was yelling and rushing towards us, our father returning to the house to make some calls.

I was happy. I was thrilled. Yet I was so enraged. The missing papers flooded my eyes. The hours spent talking to police offers. The interviewers having to be dragged away from our house. The way the kids in school looked at me. They all babbled away about Thor missing. 

Because Thor was the light that moths worshiped. He fit in anywhere and wasn’t a bad kid. Good grades, good looking. Worth the effort. But they only paid attention to me when he was missing. Suddenly, I, Loki, was somebody with an important name. I was the kid with the missing brother. People I didn’t know came up to me and asked me if I was okay.

I hated them. I hated Thor. I hated myself. I’d been home for nearly the entire month. The cops said it was best if they brought my school work to me. They thought if this kidnapper was going to strike the family again, it made me a target. I didn’t argue. I stayed in my room, away from my father, and focused. Something was empty without Thor. Something in my chest.

It wasn’t like him sleeping over at a friend’s on the weekend, or going on a date with a girl. Sif or Jane, I couldn’t remember who Thor had last been hooked on. Because then Thor always returned. He would come into my room and sit on the end of my bed. He’d pet my cat, Sleipnir, and tell me about his night. I’d pretend I didn’t care. Sometimes he’d fall asleep on the end of my bed. I’d watch him for awhile before curling up beside him.

I kept staring down at Thor’s bloodied face. His blue eyes seemed gray, the way they were half closed. He seemed so disoriented I questioned how he’d even managed to get home. My mother was gripping his good hand gently and weeping against his chest. 

Thor hardly ever watched me cry. Mainly because I didn’t cry. I hated crying. I cried once when the kids at school had made their way to our little farm and taken my bicycle. Thor had gotten it back, and even fixed it for me. I’d cried when my dog Fenrir had died. Thor had consoled me. I cried now, because Thor was alive. I’d watched the police drag the lake in search of his body. I’d watched the police tell us only a few days ago that they were now searching for a body. I’d gone through the countless acts of teens pretending they cared about what I felt.

I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t look away.

I moved away when the paramedics pushed me back and then returned to my room. He was alive. He was getting care for his wounds. He would live. But he wouldn’t be the same, I was sure. Nothing would be the same. Our lives, no matter how much we swore it wouldn’t, would be shaped by the event. 

I laid in bed, face buried against Sleipnir’s black fur. Something in the cat told him not to bite me, and he let me freely weep into his coat.


	2. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki ponders the first few days of Thor being gone. He can hardly remember them. But he remembers the empty feeling in his chest.

A cop was stationed at the end of our street to keep the reporters away. Our father issued a statement. ‘We appreciate all of the prayers we are receiving and would like privacy while we adjust.’ Adjust. What did that mean? I didn’t begin to delve into it. I didn’t want to. Mother asked me if I wanted to drive up to the hospital to see Thor, and I told her no. She wouldn’t push me like father would. 

For the most part, I laid in bed. I laid in bed more than Sleipnir, and that was something. Both of my parents noticed, but didn’t bring it up. They were more focused on Thor anyway. It left me to take care of the farm. Which basically meant taking care of the house and the small coop of chickens we had. I don’t know why we even called it a farm.

It was just a small stretch of land with a pasture and a barn we didn’t use. We’d gotten chickens for mother. She’d always wanted them. We kept them close to the house and all I had to do was throw them a bucket of feed in the morning and fill their water. Mother insisted she was the one to collect the eggs. I didn’t care. They were grumpy anyway.

The farm was away from most of the town, so it was always quiet. A car coming up the road was uncommon. That was something the police had questioned me about for awhile. Had I heard anything? No. Did he tell me anything? No. For a stretch of time they considered me a person of interest. They’d gotten the idea from the people at my school.

They claimed I was always detached from Thor and never spoke to him.

They’d never told a bigger lie, but I didn’t bring it up.

Thor was always happy to include me in whatever he did and his group of friends, but they all thought I was icy and strange. Mother had thrown such a fit that the police had asked her to calm down. Mother was easy to fear when it came to Thor and me. We were what she considered her world.

I had never seen her heart ache more than it had those first few days. She didn’t sleep. Her hands constantly clutched at her head or chest. She had even screamed at me in her hope that I knew something. I’d been so stricken with terror that I couldn’t speak, and she held me and sobbed. I didn’t have a mind of my own in that time period. I was just a body, doing what people told me.

Thor couldn’t be gone. Thor was the person everybody loved. Somebody bright and full of potential. It made it all more tragic. Had somebody like Bruce Banner gone missing, nobody would have been all too affected. The sophomore was shy and stuttered over his words. He was silent and was average in his work. But Thor caused hell. I’d spent hours putting posters up. It didn’t take as long as it could have, because so many greedy hands wanted to help.

They wanted to help Thor, not me. They wanted Thor back. If it had been me who’d disappeared, they wouldn’t have batted an eye until they saw Thor was affected by it. Because Thor cared. He cared about me for a reason I could not fathom. They would have grabbed their flashlights and any father’s with guns and cop cars would have searched for me. 

He’d disappeared on a Tuesday. A boring Tuesday, where he’d smiled at me in science over the test we were taking. He’d stayed after because there was a meeting for the student council. I’d rode the bus home because I was too tired to walk home. The bus wasn’t bad if I sat in the first two seats. The driver would normally keep people from being brutish up there. By eight mother was asking where he was. She was calling his phone for an hour.

By one in the morning the cops had been called. Thor wasn’t with any of his friends and wasn’t at the school. A search began and his back pack was found a few blocks from the school. It was dropped in a fashion that showed a struggle; the straps were torn. It startled me to see. Thor looked like a linebacker. Who could have overpowered him?

So the cops assumed it was a male that had abducted him. That was the only link to Thor we would find for the next month. The police took it so they could examine it. I knew they wouldn’t find any more answers out of it. They asked me if he seemed depressed as of late or pressured. I shook my head no and went into his room, closed the door, and sank down against it.

The room smelled greatly of Thor, and the signs of a human life were everywhere. His room screamed that he had once been a being that lived. A cup of water on the dresser, a few books piled on his desk, laundry that was patiently waiting to be folded. I didn’t cry. There was no sense in crying. Either he was alive or he wasn’t. I wasn’t going to turn into some hero and begin to look for him. 

I hadn’t known at the time that the next month would bring me to silence. A silence that crushed mother’s spirit and father didn’t have an issue with. For all he cared, I could swallow every pill in the medicine cabinet. But I couldn’t do that to mother. Two sons gone in a month? She would have turned into no more than a shell of somebody who once was.

Like Thor.


	3. Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki prepares Thor's room for him, but when Thor arrives, he has no words for him.

I hadn't set an alarm to wake up to in months. My body woke me when it needed something or mother came in and eased me quietly into alertness. Although when I looked at the clock, the soft green numbers showed me that it was noon. My black curtains kept the light out of my room, so I let myself believe it was earlier and got up to get dressed. I picked the biggest sweatshirt I had out and threw on a pair of jeans. 

Thor had always hated the sweatshirt. He claimed it made me look too small. It was nearly as black as my hair, with nothing on it. I pulled a brush through my hair for mother; she'd made a point of telling me Thor was coming home today. They'd only kept him in the hospital for three days. I had thought only mother would stay at the hospital, but father ended up there, too.

I didn't mind. I had Sleipnir and cable, so I sat with a package of Oreos and watched shows back to back. Normal teenager stuff that mother would yell at me for. I had been given the task to fix Thor's room up for him. Somebody or another told mother that cleaning it and keeping it well lit would keep Thor comfortable. It led me to believe he'd been somewhere dark.

I pushed the thought from my mind and pulled my sleeves up. I didn't want to think about what he'd been through. I didn't want to care. I wasn't going to ask him about what had happened or where he had been. I was going to stay away from the news until the story died down. 

I picked up the clothes he'd thrown on the floor and put them in his laundry basket. The clothes that'd been sitting there since his disappearance were filed away into his dresser, and I put new sheets on his bed. I had to take several breaks when dusting the room; my throat itched and my nose was irritating, but I did it.

I opened the curtains, vacuumed, and even spent time straightening his books. I knew what he would say. Or at least I thought what he would say. Something or another about me always knowing how he liked things. I wouldn't tell him what I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I knew what he liked because it was all anybody ever cared about. But instead I'd nod kindly and find something to busy myself with.

At three o'clock I was eating a sandwich and staring at the woods through the patio door. Only a few days ago I'd found Thor. I'd watched him roll down the hill and screamed so hard I'd lost my voice. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to chase away the thought. But it was there, louder than it had ever been. 

I kept seeing a back to back of Thor. The last smile he'd given me. His hair was pulled back into a pony tail, with some hairs hanging down in his face. Shades of blue made his eyes addicting to look at, and I understood why everybody fell all over him. And then there was the split second of Thor that only I had seen. 

Defeated. Scared. Confused. For once he'd felt what I lived in. He'd looked up at me, too scared to cry, too confused to make a sound. He'd felt the silence I felt when I went to bed and when I woke up. It was the feeling a person only got when they knew that they were at their lowest point. That was my life. My life was the lowest point. 

Father had told me. I didn't tell anybody about it. I didn't want to ruin the balance we held. But he'd told me everything. Part of me knew. I didn't look anything like Frigga or Odin. It was clear. Thor was their spitting image. He had just told me I was special. That I was like one of the cases when two brown eyed parents had a blue eyed child.  
He'd sat and told me how I was born to die. That the only reason I was still around was because mother refused to think of me as any less than a son. I don't know why it had crushed me as badly as it had. I had already known. Hearing it was different than just knowing it. Once something was said, it couldn't be taken back. It was there to drift in the depths of my mind until I died.

The sound of a door opening and Sleipnir hopping off the table in front of me brought me out of my thoughts. I didn't move, possibly in hopes that Thor wouldn't see me. I hated myself. I hated him. But I couldn't understand why. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My chin resting on my knees, I started at the balled up paper towel on the table.

I felt Thor's presence before I saw him. I didn't look at him, but from the corners of my eyes I saw some of him. I saw the stitches in his temple and the wrap around his arm. It wasn't broken then. My mind drifted to what other injuries he may had gotten, but I pushed it away quickly. Our parents didn't follow him in, so I assumed they'd decided to give us time to talk.

I was tempted to get up and walk to my room. We couldn't talk here. We couldn't talk at the table. Where Thor had talked about his days at school and his successes. Where a dark cloud formed over me and I hardly ate what was put in front of me. We could not talk at the table where father- Thor's father -had told me I was nothing more than another son for mother. I could not bring myself to accept that mother wasn't truly mine. Because she was the only creature to view Thor and me as equals.

Thor sat across from me like he had been for the past seventeen years. I reached for the paper towel and ripped a piece of it off, letting it drift to the plate. His breathing was slow and even, loud enough to hear. So he was nervous. I kept picking at my paper towel, worried that if I didn't, something else would fall apart. Maybe me, or maybe Thor. Or maybe the world would just come apart like a thread had been cut.

"I thought of you." Thor's voice was what it had always been, except for the rasp that made him sound as though his throat bothered him. Hoarse. From what? Screaming? I closed my eyes tightly and chased the thought away with a few words I wanted the ability to say.

"Mother tells me you have not been to school. That you have not been talking." Why did he care? I opened my eyes and began ripping smaller pieces into the paper. It was typical of Thor. The minute he got home he turned back into the humble person everybody expected. The one who cared for others before himself. 

Perhaps he was trying to not think of himself. I'd never thought of it that way, but now, with the idea in mind, I couldn't shake it. "Thank you for taking care of my room." He didn't say that I shouldn't have or anything. He knew that I was not in the mood to be talked to. I wonder if he knew I never would be. I stood and threw the paper towel and paper plate into the trash.

The bits of paper towel rained down. I rushed up the stairs and closed my door loud enough so that the members of the house knew not to bother me. Under my blankets again, with Sleipnir curled up at my feet, I tried to piece together the exact reason for the bitter taste the thought of Thor brought to my mouth.


	4. Dissolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki lies and tells his mother he's sick so he doesn't have to see his family. But she can't keep the nightmares away.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for minor self harm.

I told mother I was sick, so she was the only one I saw all day. Talking to Thor the previous day had cluttered my thoughts too dearly, so I'd made myself throw up and mother put me to bed. Every time she would leave the room to let me rest again, I would feel like sobbing. I just couldn't get my tired mind and body to cry, although. My eyes would sting with the threat of tears, but never spill over.

Mother was spending more time with me than Thor. She was taking care of me like any mother would. I hadn't spoken a word to father in days. The longest I'd gone without looking directly at him was two months. I don't know why I still called him father. He did not deserve to hear such words, but I knew that I had to keep up the charade for Thor.

Mother was tucking me in and kissing my forehead. She was singing softly whenever she brought me in crackers to eat or something to drink. She even let me use her laptop when I asked her if I could check my email. I didn't have anybody in mind when I thought of it, but as of late some people who pretended they cared were flooding my inbox.

A few emails of relief and hopes that we were doing well. I didn't open them at all. I deleted them and then deleted them out of my trash so I wouldn't read them. The only email I had of interest was one from Bruce. Bruce was interesting enough, and I didn't have to sit alone at lunch anymore. He was smarter than everybody thought; he loved science.

He helped me when I needed it and I helped him. He sent me a short message. He babbled that he was happy for my family that Thor was back. But the rest of the email was about how an experiment had gone wonderfully. I smiled gently at the screen and logged out. As much as I wanted to reply, I just didn't have it in me.   
Mother came in with Sleipnir under her arm. "Loki, I told you not to let your cat up onto the counters," she looked at me with an eyebrow raised. She wasn't truly angry, though. She seldom was.  
I watched her set Sleipnir down beside me. She rubbed behind his ears for a few moments and then sat down beside me herself. I wasn't sure what more to say. I'd always been the child of a few words, yet mother always managed to understand what I was saying. Only now was different. I hadn't spoken in a month, other than screaming for Thor. 

"They called and told me you can stay off from school for the rest of the year, if you'd like." My eyes widened slightly. We were just preparing for snow to start. Mother smoothed down my hair and brushed her thumb against my cheek. "They say you are doing well. Better than when you actually attended. They offered the same thing to Thor, but he says he's ready to go in a few weeks."

Sleipnir patted at mother's arm with his paw. She smiled and petted the back of his neck. "I am glad we got him for you. He's such a wonderful companion. I asked your father if we could fix the barn and maybe get a couple of horses." She smiled down at me. I felt like crying yet again, and she hadn't even left. My mind was filling itself with her words. Your father. I hadn't even told her I knew. I never would, most likely.

I nodded a bit to please her. "I will keep Thor out of your way. You two seemed to be a bit strained right now. It'll be okay, my sweet Loki." She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I love you." She kissed Sleipnir on the head as well and turned off the light. She closed the door and I watched the last bit of her blonde hair disappear. 

Why was I still alive? I had no value; I was just taking up space. Father told me I didn't deserve to take up space, and I believe him. Somewhere, in a sea of thoughts, I drifted to sleep. But for somebody who'd done so much wrong by just breathing, nightmares came to terrorize me. I found myself shaking, trying to look at the clock. It was sometime in the morning, before the sun was up. 

I was a failure. No more than an orphaned child. I disgusted myself. I couldn't be in my own body. Tears streamed down my face and I bit the sleeve of my flannel pajamas to keep from crying too loudly. My body shook with each mistake that tore through my mind.

Why was I born? People claimed all the time they wanted children so they could raise them right, but what had I been for? Odin was right. I was born to die, and nothing more. I tore my sleeves up to my elbows and began frantically clawing at the skin on my wrists. A way out is what I needed. I needed to be gone so I couldn't hurt mother. I needed to be gone so I couldn't hurt Thor. So I couldn't damage Odin's family name.

I didn't hear Thor come in, but the quiet sobs must have been loud enough for him to hear across the hall. I saw warm hands gripping my wrists to keep my hands away from themselves. I cried and stared at the mess I'd made, with my own blood under my finger nails and blankets. A soft sigh was whispered and Thor disappeared for no more than a few seconds.

Why did he care? I was a mistake, and he wasn't. He was a king in Odin's eyes. He had a future and a free ride. I was the lowest point. I caused so much stress and one too many headaches. Thor returned with a wet washcloth and bandages, but I hardly felt what he was doing.

"Don't look at me." I pleaded. The sound didn't come out. It was just the movement of my lips. "Don't touch me." I sobbed out, but the sound was still quiet and gritty. The sound of me speaking made me hate myself more. White bandages covered my arms, but they still ached. The blood on my fingers was cleaned off, but I still felt it as if it were acidic. 

Thor wrapped his arms around me, even when I beat at his chest weakly. I sat and lamented the the loss of my sanity against his chest. He rubbed my back and held me until I was no more than shaking. He was back in his own room before our parents woke. I would tell mother Sleipnir had gotten upset with me and scratched me. 

She wouldn't believe it for a minute. Odin would, despite that the scratches were too wide for cat's claws. Odin would be glad harm had been done to me, I was sure. He mourned the fact that I was yet to die. I just wished I could tell Thor. But I still struggled with what I felt for Thor now. He was back, and I should have been glad. But I still had a bitterness in my heart that refused to let go.


	5. Conjecture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor gets Loki to agree to go to school with him his first day back. Loki isn't sure why he agreed, but he did.

The next few days in our house were silent unless Thor was awake. I still wasn’t speaking much at all. When mother asked me if I needed anything from the store, and I listed off a few things, she nearly cried. Maybe she thought I was opening up. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t. She got me what I asked for and more.

"Take this to your brother," she handed me a bag of junk food. It was stuff Thor and I would sit up and eat for hours while we watched television. She was trying to get us to talk. I hadn’t said much to Thor since he’d helped me with my arms. This didn’t require talking, but I had a question for him anyway. I nodded and took it from her, catching a disquiet look from her eyes.

I turned and walked up the stairs, finding Thor’s door propped open an inch or two. I didn’t knock, because knocking drew too much attention to myself. We’d never knocked on each other’s doors. There was no part of each other that we hadn’t discovered. I found him sitting at his desk, mother’s laptop in front of him. 

I stood behind him and peered down at the screen. It was his email, and I wasn’t shocked at how full his inbox was. He saw a bit of my reflection in the screen and jumped, a hand pressed to his chest. “Must you always do that?” It wasn’t said in an angry way. The corners of his lips turned up slowly and I handed him the bag.

"Thank you." He looked through it and pulled out a Pop-Tart. 

"Go tell that to mother." I muttered. I had spent too long thinking about him. I was trying to get myself to gain the relationship I’d once had with Thor, but it was impossible. Thor had come back and perhaps been as scared as everybody expected him to be for about four days. He still flinched at loud noises, which I tried not to notice.

Thor offered a Pop-Tart to me. I stared at it in his hand until he pulled it back with a little shrug that meant ‘suit yourself’. I wrapped my arms around myself and he sat back and stared. “Loki? What changed?” He asked thoughtfully, his Pop-Tart halfway to his mouth.

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows. 

"What changed? What happened?" He set the Pop-Tart back down onto the silver packaging and stood. I felt so small all of a sudden, yet at the same time I felt the room would collapse down upon us. I had to get out. But Thor’s figure was blocking my entire world off and I couldn’t push past him.

I ached to scream again. I wanted so badly to tell him that he’d been abducted. Did he not remember that? That he had been gone for a month and it’d torn everybody to shreds. I had hardly eaten and mother was so depressed she was put onto medication. Father was quieter than usual, even. I had no idea where Thor had went and I didn’t want to know.

I closed my eyes tighter and tried to hold myself together with my arms. I was going to fall apart if he touched me. I would fall onto the floor that had seen so many of our childhood memories and I wouldn’t want to get back up. What had I come in to ask him again? I searched, but there was too much static in my mind. Why was Thor doing this to me?

"May I use the shower?" I stammered. I always asked Thor. One of the bathrooms Thor and I shared. I always asked, because it was attached to his room. Thor sighed and nodded. He considered wrapping his arms around me; I could tell by the way his shoulders rose, but he thought better of it and let me pass. 

I turned the water up all the way, so it stung my skin. I sunk down against the tub, the water hitting my shoulders and head. I was trying to hold myself together and take up as little space as I could. Where had Thor been? I finally allowed myself to ponder it. Had it been warm? It was impossible to think of Thor shivering. He had always been warm. We’d slept in the same bed together countless times, and I’d always elected to push myself against him instead of a blanket.

Nobody had told me anything about what he’d been through. I knew he’d talked about it, though. He would have to for the police to find the kidnapper. I figured out for myself that the cut on Thor’s temple had been somebody kicking him. It was long and narrow, and I couldn’t count how many stitches there were. His clothes had been torn and ripped in many places. 

I looked at the healing scratches on my wrist. Maybe what Thor had been threw was a million times worse than what I thought. But he was safe now. He would have to live with the memories, but he was safe now. I pulled myself weakly out of the shower and got dressed. I would have worn the hoodie Thor had sitting on the sink, but I couldn’t bring myself too. 

I wore my pajamas I’d brought in and walked back into Thor’s room. He was sitting on his bed, fingers running over a photo in his fingers. He didn’t look up, but spoke. “Loki, can you go to school with me? Just once. The first day.” He looked up at me and I saw the tears in his eyes.

The word no was immediately in my head. I couldn’t be around the tears and smiles. He would be swarmed and treated like a king. “They’ll let you come to my classes instead of yours. I just don’t want to be alone…” He set the photo down on the bed and I glanced at it by mistake.

The picture showed both of us standing in our front yard. It was fall, leaves scattering the background. I was only four, perhaps, with Thor’s arms wrapped around me. We both grinned, and I brandished a stuffed lion. It was no special day; just one in which our mother had her camera. I didn’t want to go with Thor, yet I didn’t want him to leave.

I hated him, but I felt if he left, the world would be thrown out of balance again. I stared at the photo and gave a small nod. He stood and had his arms wrapped around me, head resting against mine. He’d notice that I had grown. I was not much shorter than him now. I sighed against his chest. Maybe, just maybe, if Thor held me tight enough, he’d force my broken parts to stick together.

I was going to go to school with Thor in a week or so to support him. I knew I was more important to Thor than I let myself believe. But just the thought that somebody as golden as him could love something as cold as me was hard to believe. There as nothing about me that was worth talking about. There was nothing I had to show for my existence. 

Good grades weren’t uncommon. They weren’t something to brag about. I wasn’t on a sports team, wasn’t in a club, and couldn’t play instruments. I was just Loki. I was nothing compared to Thor, but he saw it in a different view.

Even after Thor’d been stolen and kept hostage, his love for me hadn’t dimmed. Why I did not like that fact was beyond my reach. I decided that I wanted him to like me less because him being gone had torn me apart disastrously. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to stay after school? Idiotic, smart, and loved Thor just had to outdo himself. 

I was crying and shoving him away from me on my way to my room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have plans to share quiet a bit about Thor over the next few chapters. I'm excited for the chapter following this one; it's an idea I had in mind from the start of this.


	6. Cognizance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to school with Thor, Loki tells Thor exactly what he feels he needs to hear.

I kept staring into the mirror, but no thoughts were surfacing. I had done all my worrying the previous night. I wore Thor's red hoodie and a pair of jeans. He'd offered it to me and I decided that it'd give me just a small sense of comfort. I was still distant from Thor, but I had grown accustom to his presence again. 

I was pulling a brush through my black hair when Thor entered quietly. He glanced in at me before stepping into my room, as he always had. He closed the door softly, being our parents were not yet awake. Thor would wake mother before we walked out the door, not wanting to scare her. She was nervous about Thor and me going back to school.

There would be cop cars stationed all around, but mother made me swear not to tell Thor. I set my brush down and opened my closet to find my backpack. Thor was letting Sleipnir sniff his hand. Sleipnir didn't care much for Thor. Of course, he was another warm lap to lay on, and somebody who fed him, but other than that, Sleipnir ignored Thor. 

"Do you have a hair tie, Loki?" Thor asked. His voice was back to normal and no longer harsh. His words were deep, but sounded like a stream that flowed smoothly. 

"On the dresser." I told him quietly. I managed to pry my bag out from a pile of clothes and then worked on piling the books on my desk into it. I wouldn't be doing actual work, really. I was sure the first half of the classes would be teachers worrying about upsetting Thor in anyway. I watched Thor from the corners of my eyes. He pulled his hair back and some strands fell forward around his face.

We both had long hair. Thor's was only a bit past his shoulders, but mine was about four inches longer and silky. We gave each other haircuts every other month. I wondered if we would still do that. He looked over at me, seeing my gaze. He smiled at me, but half of it wasn't there. I kept my look of apathy, trying to figure out why that smile Thor had always had for me was gone. 

Where had it gone? He hadn't laughed since he'd returned. Sure, he'd give a soft chuckle now and then, but the booming laugh of the Thor that once was hadn't returned with him. I put my bag over my shoulder and felt Sleipnir nudge at my hand. I looked down at him and then back to Thor. He seemed to know my thoughts.

"I already filled his bowl. I'll go wake mother up and we'll go." He disappeared from the room and I sighed. I looked down at Sleipnir and kissed his head, his purring relaxing something in me. The cat was always there when I needed him.

I turned my light off and headed downstairs. I stared at the kitchen for a long time before deciding I didn't want to eat. I was hungry just a bit, but I'd gotten use to the small gnawing. It gave me something to focus on when things got too hard. I decided to head out to the car before mother could tell me to eat something and put a coat on. 

Thor's truck was locked, so I leaned against the door and looked up at the sky. Less daylight was beginning to become common, and considering it was only six in the morning, it was still dark. Out here, where our nearest neighbors were three miles away, I saw the stars clearly. I sighed, my breath showing as a fog. I hadn't really noticed the cold. It'd become a big part of me.

Thor was out five minutes after me, muttering about the cold and opening the truck quickly. I slid in and set my bag down on the seat between us, arms wrapping around myself quickly. Thor took a few tries to get the truck to start; nobody had been driving it. He cursed softly and turned the heat on. He used to have me move beside him and against his body while we waited for the heaters to work, but I knew that would not happen. 

I looked out the window and we drove in silence for a mile. "I'm nervous," Thor admitted, glancing over to me. I kept looking out the windshield, wondering how long he would talk without my response. "They just published a bit about me in the paper. I told them what happened and they published it. Father's angry about it, but I guess I don't mind. It's better than people asking." 

So everybody in school would know. Just not me.

"People will ask anyway." I murmured, pulling my knees up to my chest. I rested my forehead on my knees to hide my face. Thor seemed glad I replied, and a hope that I would continue to do so spread. 

"Yeah, I guess. Mother said a lot of parents are probably telling their kids to leave me alone. I don't understand why. I'm fine." It was a lie. A bullshit lie. I closed my eyes tightly.

"No. No, you're not." My voice was stronger than it had been for quite sometime, and when I lifted my head, Thor's face was pale. I'd shocked him. "You can't just come home from wherever you were taken and pretend it's okay. That's not how it's going to work. Just know that. Stop being humble," I kept talking even though he was pulling the car over. 

"You were abducted, Thor. Did they tell you that, or did you forget? Did they kick you that hard?" It was the most I'd said in so long. Tears were in my eyes, but my voice was still full of acid and regret. I hated having to tell him this, but Thor refused to acknowledge the bad things that happened to him. He always had, and he couldn't brush this off like a failed test.

He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly I thought it'd break. His forehead rested against it, and through loose strands of hair I could see that his eyes were shut tightly. We sat there for at least ten minutes before the silence was splitting my skull and I told Thor to let me drive. 

I kept my eyes stuck on the road, my teeth pressed tightly together. I knew Thor would have himself put together by the time we got to school. We pulled into the parking lot and it was already full. A cop car was station at the entrance, and he seemed to become more alert when he saw Thor and me in the cab of the truck. 

I parked close to the doors and grabbed my bag, tossing the keys at Thor. I walked in first, already seeing a clutter of students looking eagerly through the glass. I recognized one of the dark haired girls as Sif. She seemed to sneer at me, but it was too quick to tell. Once Thor was inside, many people went to console him. Tears were shed and he gave out more hugs than I could count. A fake smile was on Thor's lips.

He kept glancing in my direction, as if to check if I was there. He managed to get the group to leave him be and we walked to our lockers. They were right next to each other, and they always had been. I didn't mind, really. If I ever needed something, I knew his lock combination, so I could get right into it. 

I shoved my bag away and grabbed my binder. I could already feel stares pointed at our backs. It would be a long day, and I just had to ignore the whispers. I just had to ignore the story that would spread like fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This grew a bit longer than I expected, so their day will at school will be continued on into the next chapter.


	7. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark isn't the kindest person and ruins Loki's hope that it was all a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! This chapter was extremely hard for me to write, because it made me so upset.

I’m not sure Thor had ever gotten this much attention. He didn’t seem very comfortable, but he had a perfect artificial smile. He gave out hugs and talked until the bell rang. He sighed and pulled me towards a classroom. I was glad we were getting there before the rest of the people; I didn’t like being gawked at coming through the door a minute late.

"You’re right." Thor said quietly. He set his things down on his desk and I sat beside him. I opened my binder and pulled out my notebook. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Right that they would still ask about what had happened? Or that he needed to face what had happened to him?

"I know," I found myself saying, beginning to draw on the last page of my notebook. Students began filing in and I droned them out and focused on what I was drawing. I was slightly aware of Thor talking to a few people beside me, but a major worry was settled in me. I could not hear any of the questions they asked. I was afraid to end up catching any information.

When class started, I was glad our teacher was one with a rather icy heart. He didn’t spend time cherishing Thor. He simply welcomed him back and told him he was glad he was safe, and told us to get out books out. I didn’t have one, and I didn’t plan to speak up about it. I just kept drawing the whole hour, glad the talk between students was limited.

By our third block, most of Thor’s attention had died down. Everybody knew he was there and I was sure some of the teachers had been telling students to leave us be. I was glad when lunch came. I knew Thor. Thor would sit with Bruce and me and would be kind about it. He told me he’d rather be with just me and some friends than everybody. 

I was putting my binder into my locker, ready to go to lunch, when a new clutter of people came to see Thor. He shut his locker and I stood a few feet off. I noticed the senior as Tony Stark. He was cocky and I was pretty sure most of the freshmen called him Princess Stark. He sure acted that way. I stood still and said nothing, trying to block out words with anything I could.

I began to recite lyrics of my favorite songs, but for some reason I couldn’t stop listening to what they were saying to each other. 

"Welcome back." Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. I was pretty sure that Thor didn’t like Tony; I’d never seen them talk. 

"Thanks," Thor smiled, always trying to be as kind as mother had brought him up to be. "It’s great to be back." He nodded and rubbed his hands together.

"Yeah…" Tony seemed to trail off for a minute, and one of the people behind him giggled in laughter. I furrowed my eyebrows, gaze on the floor. What was funny? "So, is that news report true?"

No. No no no. I couldn’t listen to this. I shifted and stomped my foot softly, trying to get my attention anywhere else. It was what I had been avoiding all day. I couldn’t not listen to what came from Tony’s mouth. I felt Thor glance at me briefly before he looked down at Tony. “Yeah, it is.”

"Shit, man, I’m sorry. Although some part of it is a bit unbelievable. I understand the getting kicked and shit, and being tied up, but there’s one part I don’t understand." 

I was going to throw up. No, that hadn’t happened to Thor. Not Thor, not my brother. That had been somebody else. Thor seemed calm, though, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What don’t you understand, Tony?” He said it with such patience in his voice.

My skin was on fire and I couldn’t put it out. I was going to be sick, I just knew it. The pounding of my head could not block out Tony’s words. There was some part of me that wanted to know what Thor had been through, but it wasn’t me. That wasn’t me. I put my hands under my hair and over my ears, but the words poured through, muffled and distorted.

"The part where you said you were raped? I mean, that’s kind of unbelievable." Tony laughed quietly and I saw Thor tense. Nothing came out of his mouth.

I was going to faint. I was going to let the darkness consume me. I wanted it to. That didn’t happen to Thor and it was just Tony lying about what he had read. No, Thor was too good for that to happen to him. But nothing came out of his mouth. Thor didn’t move or speak. I felt tears stinging my eyes painfully, the taste of bile rising in my throat.

I couldn’t even speak, afraid that I would start screaming. I looked up and saw multiple pairs of eyes look at me. Tony seem startled, as if he hadn’t even noticed me. Thor moved as if to hug me, but I shoved his arms away and covered my mouth with my hands. I could not be there anymore. The words were bouncing off my skull and getting louder and louder, and the stuttered breath of Thor let me know he was crying as well.

When had I pushed Tony onto the floor? When I had sat on his hips? They were questions I could not answer, but I couldn’t stop. I just kept aiming for his nose, and soon blood coated his face. I couldn’t even stop when I felt the skin of two of my knuckles split. I kept hitting him through my tears, strangled sounds trying to leave me throat.

Not Thor. Not Thor. It was not Thor. Thor had not been raped. Thor had not been tied up. Thor had not been kicked. Our conversation was mocking me in my mind. Thor was not the one who needed to accept it. Our blood mixed together on his face, and I just kept seeing how my blood was shades darker than his. How he could hardly bring his hands up to protect himself. His nose was as broken. Broken. He would know how broken felt. 

I felt hands pulling me back and I knew it was Thor. I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe, and I hardly noticed the mob of people that was surrounding us. I held my hands up to my face and cried into them, the warmth of scarlet smearing my face and tears. I kept trying to rip myself away from Thor, but he had me so tightly that I was scared of what would happen when he let go.

Nothing bad ever happened to Thor and this didn’t happen either. I could hear his body shaking sobs against my back. Tony was still lying on the floor, blood seeping down into his ear and onto his neck, decorating the tan tiles. Thor was as broken as I was now. But he couldn’t be. I needed him to support me. I needed him to be able to pick me up when I needed it. That could not happen to Thor. 

I was selfish and I always would be. Because Thor was the one good in my life that I could handle. He was the one thing in my life that never changed and always had the time to assure me that I was still alive. But he was a broken machine now. He wasn’t like his truck, that would start up after a few tries. He wasn’t fully there anymore and he never would be. 

I was hardly aware of what was happening, other than Thor had me in my arms and I was dragging my feet. They sent us home. That was what I had figured out when I was in the back of a police cruiser. Another cop was driving behind in Thor’s truck, so we wouldn’t have to go back and get it. I held my arms around myself, and Thor held onto me, his face against my hair.

Two broken people could not make one whole. I’d witnessed it my entire life. Thor and I could not make each other whole. We were impossibly small shards of glass. Nobody would take the time to put us back together. I kept crying my sorrows against his chest. He carried me up to his room. Mother had been called already. He was filling the bath with warm water, and even though I was shaking and still crying, I allowed him to take my clothes off from me. 

I sank down into the tub and Thor sat on the side, a washcloth in his hand. He washed the blood from my face and hands with a silence that let me know he knew. He knew that I discovered he was no longer whole. He knew that I was scared for us. I was silent by the time his fingers were gently rubbing through my hair. He helped me out and wrapped me in a towel.

I would sleep in his room. Having to be me alone hurt, and I didn’t want to be surrounded by signs of my existence. He dressed me in his sweatpants and shirt and helped me crawl into bed. There were no words that had to be spoken. He just held me until our breathing was normal and we slowly drifted to sleep.

I would never understand why Thor was still working. Why after what had happened, was he still able to be loving? Was there a certain part that I was missing? What made us so different? He was trying to be strong, and I hated it. Broken things were not strong. I decided in the night that it was me. I was missing something that I couldn’t gain. I would never be complete. I was a painting missing a signature. Everybody was afraid to claim any part of me. 

Except for Thor.


	8. White Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki continues to detach from himself, unable to recognize that Thor is hurting more than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell, I was gone a long time. I apologize. I miss this story so much. I went through a lot of real life things, and I'm pretty lucky I'm alive right now. This chapter was a bit hard for me, because it involves a few elements of my own emotion. I love it.

Thor got out of bed. I didn't. I watched him walk out and shut the door behind him, and he didn't come back all morning. I was silent and put my hand on the warmth from where he was laying until it was gone. Everything changed. At first I thought it was one little thing, but then I realized nothing was the same. It would never be the same again. I felt like crying, yet I couldn't. I had been like that for a few years. I wouldn't cry for months, and then suddenly I'd have one big breakdown. I tried to be quiet about those.

When Thor came back into the room, I made sure my back was facing him and he thought I was asleep. Odin had harsh words about Tony for me, mother a disapproving look, and Thor consoling words for when Odin could not hear us. I wanted none of it. I wanted to be what Odin wanted me to be; dead. I was worthless. A waste of resources. I understood every word he said to me, because he was not kind. He was truthful. 

The house got quiet after awhile, meaning our parents were probably gone and Thor was downstairs doing whatever he did now. I kept throwing words around in my head. Thor was raped, kept, and abused. That was it. It was uncomplicated. I itched when I thought about it. I wanted to drain my body. I wanted to watch it drain, and watch crimson memories swirl gracefully down the drain so I wouldn't have to carry that burden anymore. There was hardly much holding me back.

It was who I was. Part of me wanted to know who my real parents were, because they were probably the reason I was so fucked up. Everybody knew I was depressed in that farm house. It was clear, yet nobody was willing to do anything about it. Mother loved me. I knew she did. But she didn't know what to do. What chance was there when even Prozac couldn't help me? I sat up and leaned my forehead against the cool wall, listening to the white noise of rain beginning to start outside. It was always raining in my mind. Actual rain just made it literal.

I got out of bed and looked at my pale skin, visible even in the dark room. The scratches were nearly gone. I was glad; I did not want uneven wounds. I wanted them to be neat and careful. Something I had control over. I looked around Thor's room and decided I had to eat something. Just a piece of toast and then I would go back to bed. I opened the door silently and skipped the steps on the stairs that made loud cries when stepped on. I didn't need Thor trying to act normal around me.

I had my hand on the bread when I heard him. Small, muffled cries. I didn't want to know. I longed to ignore them. But I peeked around the corner, and found him curled up on the couch, a throw pillow stuffed into his mouth. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, but it was long enough for him to see me. I thought he'd just look at me and ignore me. I was wrong. I was wrong and I wished I could run up the stairs and hide myself away.

Thor's eyes widened and he shoved himself up, trying to make himself smaller as he shoved himself against the corner of the couch. His blue eyes were wide, a hand raised above his face as though I was going to strike him. It was disturbingly real. It made me uncomfortable. It made me feel sick. He kept muttering words that I couldn't hear, and started crying harder. He was not in our living room, looking at his brother.

He was somewhere else, looking at somebody who was going to cause him pain.

"Thor," I said hoarsely, tears stinging my own eyes. He shook his head too fast and too quick. "Thor," I said again, fear making my voice shake. He was blurry through the tears. He must have calmed down when tears fell over my cheeks, because his breathing was no longer labored and his figure was still. I needed comfort, but as I looked at him, I realized he did too. Thor was falling apart while trying to keep himself together, and I couldn't help him.

I was pathetic. I was born that way and I would die that way. I swallowed it and crossed the room, allowing Thor to burrow into the crooks of my arms. He filled a lot of my chest. His heat and breath filled my veins and my hearing. It momentarily made me forget that I was hurting because this was Thor and this was my brother and he needed me. Somebody needed me.

"Thor," I cried against his hair. I hardly said it. The noise was stuck. Thor's name was heavy on my tongue and made me feel like I was choking. It stuck to my teeth and made it impossible to breathe. I was made to accept that even though I was born to die, Thor needed me, and I couldn't. He would not be able to handle my death. I didn't understand why, but he just wouldn't and I knew that. Thor was reduced to a child against my chest, his arms wrapped around my ribs and his tears staining the shirt he had put on me last night. 

He was trying to force pieces of himself together again before anybody could catch him in his broken state. I could do nothing than hold him tight and pray he found it as comforting as I did. I wasn't sure when our parents would get home, but I wasn't too worried. If mother saw us, she would force Odin to leave us be. He was mine. Thor had always been mine. It was how we worked together. Me, his, him, mine. Us, we, they, them. We fit together yet we'd never be whole. 

In my mind, he was a child again. Playing with me outside in a variety of weather. He rolled a ball towards me and my chubby fingers reached for it, the red color filling my eyes. I'd giggled and gurgle at him, waving it until he managed to convince me to throw it back at him. He was a child grasping at the autumn leaves as he swung on a tire swing, me on his lap. A child as we sped down a hill, cheeks bitten cold and noses red. Youthful as he hopelessly chased a spring rabbit with laughter, Fenrir bouncing around me as I fell trying to keep up.

Thor was what my life consisted of. He knew my secrets, felt my pain, had seen my smile. He'd been there for my downfalls, and even though I didn't want to admit it, knew what I felt when I went to bed. Low and empty.

Thor had spent years cleaning me up, holding me, and making me better.

And now it was my turn to repay that debt.


	9. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor cannot handle Frigga's constant worrying, so him and Loki leave. Loki learns more about Thor than he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this chapter was sparked by my Bden Bear. Thank you, darling. <3

Thor was feeling better by the time our parents arrived. I had gotten him to eat a grilled cheese, though he hadn't spoken. I hadn't either. We knew what stretched in the silence between us. Ignorance was becoming an impossible option for me; I would know what had happened to Thor soon enough. When mother and Odin returned home, I told her that he was sleeping and I had work to do. I didn't; I had not started the independent studies assigned to me by my school, but I would have it done quickly anyway and I wasn't worried about it. 

I ended up with mother's laptop, staring at a chat window. Bruce was somebody I didn't like lying to. I told him a variation of the truth. It wasn't fully a lie, but it wasn't elaborate. 'How are you?' 'I'm managing.' And I was managing. We talked for awhile, the conversations moving from biology to me no longer attending school. Bruce mentioned meeting up sometime, just to hang out. I agreed mainly because it would sooth my scattered mother. She was focusing her mind on so many things at once that it would bring her peace of mind for me to be out with a good kid.

I laid in bed for awhile after that, with my cat sitting near my head. I'd nudge him away now and then when he insistently licked at my hair. I couldn't link my thoughts together. I was depressed, I wanted to die, but I couldn't. Thor needed me, and if I even thought of getting up in that instant to die, guilt held me down. I had never cared too much about anybody before, because caring could be used as a weapon. I was positive whoever had taken Thor had not taken him to threaten our family; I was not a hero, and any stalker would know that. There had been no ransom or sign of that being the case.

Gentle hands shook me gently, and I roused from a quiet sleep I had no recollection of falling into. Warmth was the first thing in my mind; I was warm under my blankets and knew I did not wish to be bothered. Thor loomed over me, although, blonde hair nearly brushing against my cheeks. His smell flooded my room and my bed and I tried helplessly to decipher it. There were artificial scents that came from a bottle, but hidden under that, unadulterated Thor. It was just Thor, and I could never explain it. It smelled safe and I trusted it. It was why I liked his room and bed more than mine.

"Loki," he murmured, brushing hair from my face. I scrunched up my nose and tried weakly to shove him away. "Brother. Get up. We have places to go." 

What woke me was the feeling of warmth pressed against my face. His hands on either side, pressing softly, holding me still. I was a rodent caught in his trap, although he did not wish to exterminate me. He wanted to care for me and set the flames higher on my kindling heart. I wished I could tell him that the embers of hope for me were nearly cold. They had been like that for a long time. I longed to pull away, yet also wanted more of his heat on me. I wanted to rest my forehead against him, like we did in the last dregs of the night, trying desperately to not wake our parents with giggles of conversations we would forget by morning.

I got up and he pulled his hands away. Where did Thor have to go? He hadn't left the house in quite some time; not with what happened at the school. He handed me clothes to put on, and I was shocked they were for relatively warm weather. The fall must have been permitting us a final warm day before winter came in and stole our will to go outside. He left as I dressed. I hardly looked at what he handed me. Thor was never wrong about attire.

I walked downstairs to feed Sleipnir, listening to the quiet murmur of Thor and mother in the other room. Odin must have been in his office, to my relief. Mother was giving Thor a worried look when I walked in. She glanced at me with the same look before kissing his forehead and then kissing my cheek. I felt the same surge of warmth Thor gave me when I saw her arms reaching toward me. The feeling of being loved was one I could never understand fully. Why did people so willingly give their hearts to a lost cause?

Thor led me to the truck, and when he turned left, away from town, I knew where we were going. He had been right; it was hot outside. Enough so that Thor wore a pair of sunglasses. I wasn't sure why it made me long to smile. I stared over at him; arm out the open window, parts of his pony tail falling out and whipping around his face. He looked relaxed. It made me feel better. He caught me staring and smiled, and I turned my face away so he wouldn't see my mouth turn up slightly.

He parked on a wore dirt road and I inhaled the smell of a lake as I got out. Not many people bothered with the lake. There weren't many fish in it and most people seemed to have swimming pools. Thor and I had spent countless days at the little lake- if you could call it that. The other side was still visible, but it was large enough. I began to make my way down to the small dock as Thor got a cooler from the trunk. Probably something mother insisted he take. She always sent us with something to eat and other little motherly worries, like sunblock. In the summer, she'd normally bake us something and it'd be a surprise to find in the cooler. It was exciting when we were little to find her little treats and a paper towel with a note of love written in her careful writing.

I sat down on the dock and crossed my legs. If one thing hadn't changed, it was us down at this lake. I knew Thor would sit, remove his flip flops, and let his feet dangle in the water. And he did. It gave me a sense calmness. I watched his hands close around a plastic bottle of pink lemonade. His fingers circled around the cap. I wasn't going to ask him why we were sitting on the dock that had silently witnessed much of our childhood.

He opened his mouth to speak. I knew his words would split my life into a before and after. Before it happened and after it happened. I looked down at the water and watched little bugs skitter over the top. It was not them that held a burden, but the water beneath them, yet it swayed lazily, as if it was nothing. Thor's reflection in the water was calm. I looked down at my own and reached down and flicked my fingers through it, watching it disappear. But the ripples branched out and attacked Thor's, leaving his distorted.

He breathed deeply. "I shouldn't have walked home."


	10. Deceiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki learns of what happened to Thor, and realizes what his future holds.

I could not look at Thor. I gazed up at a clear sky, on my back in the water. He was somewhere in the middle of the lake, trying to reach the bottom. I could hear his body break the surface, and the nauseated feeling returned. My head spun, making me close my eyes so I wouldn't spiral into hysterics.

Thor had been abducted in plain sight. There was just nobody around to witness the black truck stop beside him. I found that disgustingly amusing. We carved out areas in which we could settle ourselves. Claimed that we would see everything that happened, because kids had been walking home from school for ages without difficulty. Thor... This tall, bulk of my brother, was thrown onto the sidewalk when the door of the truck slammed into him.  
He hit his head on the way down, distinctly remembering a chemical smell filling his lungs and making his eyes water. My own eyes were watering as he spoke. I couldn't take my eyes away from him then-- he look haunted, like the memory had its hands around his throat. Mercy was not the nature of fear. I knew this. I knew this when I pulled red from my skin. I knew when I wanted to sink into my mattress at night. I knew.

My life was crafted of vindictive lies. Odin lied when I was six and he told me he loved me. My alarm clock lied in the morning, because time meant nothing. My skin lied, showing me blood of blue when it was merely a trick of the light. Thor lied, not to me, but to himself. I was expected to be happy and respectful with no reason. In a perfect world, I would have been like Thor. I would have smiled and laughed, found friends, found love, taught myself the cliche way of love my fellow peers had adapted. Had meaningless sex, gotten drunk when I could, find a way to convince myself that this way of living was right.

Thor woke up in a cement room, handcuffed, laying on a dirty mattress. He was alone for hours. Enough time to learn that screaming was useless. Thor could not tell me a name because he was never given one. Information that made my pulse thunder in my ears could never be reclaimed. He would call his captor Sir, or he would suffer beatings.

I had seen Bruce come to class with a bruised eye. When I asked, he simply said his father had gotten angry. This was not the type of beating Thor suffered when refusing to follow rules. The brute was able to feed me a list. Whippings, starvation, complete isolation, etc. I looked to the center of the lake as his lips moved around these words. I could tell they had finally become a reality for him. That he no longer would try to pass it off. All of this was real. Of all the people in the world, he had been stalked and taken.

Sir fed him and kept him alive. The conversations they had were one sided, with Sir rattling off mindless things that scared Thor dearly. My brother was not a man of fear. He did not outwardly show fright. I tried many times in my youth to scare him, but with no luck. A startled gasp here and there, but Thor still looked scared. I wanted to embrace him. Hold him so tight the shattered pieces might come together once more. Still cracked, but manageable. I had to find a way to fix myself, first.  
My brother was brutally honest. I was told of three accounts of rape that all made me want to throw myself under the water and never resurface. This was not what my brother deserved. I should have hated him for being so loved. I should have, yet I couldn't. I loved Thor. The only love I had, and it was all for Thor. I'd never tell him that, despite how badly I could tell he needed it. I covered my face with my hands. I had grown in his shadow, and had the mental and physical proof. Pale, scrawny, the hills of my ribs mocking me in the mirror. The mental damage, the constant knowledge that I was not desired the way he was.

Sir had planned to keep Thor indefinitely. But in a moment of mental weakness, Thor was able to take advantage of him. Sir passed out next to the bed and Thor was able to grab the keys. He was weak, malnourished, and in severe amounts of pain. It took him a day to get home. A day to stumble out of the woods, where mother told us not to play in case we got hurt. There was a lifetime he was not telling me. I could see it in his eyes, how much more there was. He wiped tears that had not yet fallen and I said nothing. I would not force the information out of him, mainly because I thought if I heard anymore, I would surely die of grief.

There was nothing to be said. I ended up lowering my body into the cold water, hoping that somehow it might wash parts of me away. I was increasingly fragile since Thor was kidnapped, and remained so after him being found. I felt hands at my arm, pulling my eyes away from the blue canvas above me. Thor stood over me, face assessing, searching for words, it seemed. When I reached my toes down to settle upon the lake floor, I did not expect how he pulled me to his chest so tightly.

His arms wound around me and in any other universe, this would have meant something more. No, this simply meant that I was what he had now. Anybody can say they have a life. But more than half of Thor's was fake. His arms wrapped around me when it should have been the other way around. I knew I was terrible for not supporting him in the way he needed. Yet he compensated. When all else failed, Thor tried the next thing down the list.

Apathy screamed in my tired body, fighting against my urge to hold him. My arms moved on their own accord, circling his waist. My cheek pressed against his chest. Normally, I could have no issue resurfacing out childhood memories. I could not do that anymore. It wasn't who we were. We were ignorant, then. Not knowing what real life was. Only what mother's story books told us. We believed every word.

We didn't know the morbid endings when we were young. Now I knew. Life had been truthful to us all along, but laced our stories with something prettier for our child eyes. The real endings would be learned. Obtained knowledge. From experience, news, lovers, friends, the internet. Before Thor was kidnapped, surely, he must have believed that all stories would turn out beautiful, regardless of the downfall.

His vulgar reality alerted me of my own. The reality that I was fatally ruined. I would live depressed, and I would die in the same manner. We cried against each other, each grasping so hard I was sure my ribs would snap. I didn't care. If my lung was to puncture, I would die knowing that somebody needed me. That was enough for now.


End file.
